Notes: This is the last one in this 'series' (still without a title), and it turned on me rather severely from the first, slut-puppy story. Things like that seem to happen to me on a regular basis. I should take that as a sign, I guess...
I should probably mention that this story made me pace, too - not many stories do that to me (I've had more pacing experience reading than writing) and shake. So take from that what you will.
Pairing: H/Lu
Rating: R. There's actually sex in this one.
Series: Sixth (and final) in the untitled SW slut-puppy series, sequel to "Brief Encounter", "With Feeling", "Cold Front", "To Ashes", and "Dark Night".
Spoilers: The last bit of "Jedi", and beyond.
Summary: Luke discovers the *true* power of the Dark Side.
Warnings: I don't use betas.  :(  Any mistakes are solely my fault and the fault of my *#^&@ spellcheck.

It was a simple thing to use mind control on the Imperial guards to bring Luke to Vader and not just shuttle him into a cell somewhere. He subjected to the wrist binders only because they expected it, and he didn't want to reveal too much to his father before talking to him personally.

He watched placidly as Vader received him, and took his lightsaber. The mantra continued in his head, as it had since he'd left the Ewok village, and his friends. Think. Don't feel.

He tuned back in in time to hear his father speak.

"Good work, Commander. Leave us. Conduct your search and bring his companions to me." He turned to his son, something like a smile in his mechanical voice. "The Emperor has been expecting you."

Time to begin the charade. "I know, father."

"So, you have accepted the truth."

"I've accepted the truth that you were once Anakin Skywalker, my father."

"That name no longer has any meaning for me."

"It is the name of your true self. You've only forgotten. I know there is good in you. The Emperor hasn't driven it from you fully. That is why you couldn't destroy me. That's why you won't bring me to your Emperor now."

The next move was a surprise. "I see you have constructed a new lightsaber." Luke couldn't help his reaction to the sound of the 'saber's ignition. He heard the hum, and for a moment felt a flicker of fear deep inside - he was unarmed, defenseless. One move on the part of the Dark Knight behind him, and this would all be over. Too simple. He quashed that tiny feeling, held it deep inside, changed it into something that he could handle, and breathed again.

"Your skills are complete. Indeed, you are powerful, as the Emperor has foreseen."

"Come with me."

"Obi-Wan once thought as you do. You don't know the power of the dark side. I must obey my master."

"I will not turn...and you'll be forced to kill me." somehow, in the air between them, it turned from a warning into a promise.

"If that is your destiny."

"Search your feelings, father. You can't do this. I feel the conflict within you. Let go of your hate." Give it to me.

"It is too late for me, son. The Emperor will show you the true nature of the Force. He is your master now."

The conflict was there, true, and it gave Luke pause. If, after all of this time, Vader could not control it, then how - how could he be expected to do so, with only a fraction of the time as a Jedi on his side? Perhaps it was different merely because of the family tie. Leia. He shuttered his eyes for a moment, and opened them. Being this close to his father was like examining a blaster or a lightsaber up close - it was parts and pieces, not a whole. A threat of evil, rather than evil itself. He walked into the shuttle. "Then my father is truly dead."

The simple destruction of the Alliance, as outlined by the Emperor, was almost an afterthought, one of those things that he had allowed himself to know without knowing. It was all too simple to be true, too carefully plotted and planned to possibly work the way that it was supposed to.

He watched the war in the dark skies through the portal, felt the losses try to touch him, the lives calling out to him in the minute of their destruction. He pushed them aside, but there were many - Rebel and Imperial, both - and their silencing voices were insistent. The only consolation was the knowledge that Vader felt it, too.

The Emperor - he was feeding on the death like a hungry spider, growing stronger as the life-force flowed, bled over the skies above Endor.

Luke shivered. Something was not right about this. Something -

Memory, distended by time and distorted by his self- betraying mind, flashed across his eyes: a body, not cold and dead, but whole, and warm, and naked.

Han's body, in bed. Touching him.

He almost gasped, almost forgot how to breathe. It was so real, he could feel it - feel the sense- memories crawling over his skin. It terrified him. It made him live. He searched his mind, wildly, for something to push it away. He grabbed on to the nearest thought, the one that he should have been having.

Throwing caution to the wind, he gathered up some of his well-preserved lust and focused it towards the Emperor. It shifted, changed in the space between them, morphed into an emotion that the Emperor could name, one that was familiar and natural. Love had no place here. The only lust allowed - the only one for which he had a name - was for blood.

The Emperor made a parody of a smile, easily taking what Luke had to give. "You want this, don't you? The hate is swelling in you now. Take your Jedi weapon. Use it. I am unarmed. Strike me down with it. Give in to your anger. With each passing moment, you make yourself more my servant."

Yes. "No!"

"It is unavoidable. It is your destiny. You, like your father, are now mine."

It was something - something more than the battle before him, something more than the demonstration of power of the battle station, something much more than the Rebellion - that moved him forward. The taunting of the Emperor was easy to ignore, Vader's presence a little more difficult.

But the memories - the memories pushing themselves back, from where he had been keeping them, ever since Yoda died - the feelings were betraying him. It was just as they had said, just as Vader had told him on Bespin: his feelings always betrayed him.

But he had rid himself of them, refused them, rejected them. The way Ben had taught him. Bury your feelings deep down. He had done so. He had rid himself of them, without mourning. He had given his lover over to the care of his sister. He had come here, in vain hope of 'rescuing' his father, and his friends - and himself.

Without feelings.

Without hope.

Without memories.

Bury your feelings. They could be made to serve the Emperor.

It was the Emperor's voice that brought him back to reality, back from these flashes of memory and to the present once again. "Your fleet is lost, and your friends on the Endor moon will not survive. There is no escape, my young apprentice. The Alliance will die."

Something was wrong. He shook his head, trying to clear it. Vader - Ben - Yoda - all were there, telling him, teaching him. Telling him about feelings that they had never felt. Telling him about the Emperor, about the Empire, about the Dark Side. But they didn't know.

"As will your friends."

He felt as though he was splitting into pieces, falling apart. Visions - Han, Leia, Lando, Chewie - appeared before him. No. It was supposed to be me. Me alone. I was supposed to die here, with my father, so that they would live. I will not fail in this. I will not.

Yoda's voice. Calm.

Ben's. Bury your feelings.

He was almost delirious with the inner struggle, trying to decide what to do, what to think, how to react, when it happened. He staggered back, wounded. The shock to his system came as clearly as if he'd been struck down himself - a sharp, shooting pain in his arm. Someone was hurt, on the moon. Someone close, close enough to send a flicker of pain through their bond, through the mind-shields that Luke held that cut himself off from all of his friends, all except -

Han was so intent on 'hot-wiring' the door to the shield generator that he was almost completely able to shut out all sounds of the battle around him. He was vaguely aware of Leia exchanging fire, covering him, but it wasn't until she cried out that he looked away from the panel.

"It's not bad."

And then, disaster. He turned to face the trooper behind him, glancing down at her as he did so. His smile was immediate, and genuine. Leave it to the Princess to come through, to snatch victory from the cold grasp of defeat. Han grinned when he saw the blaster in her hand. "I love you."

"I know."

It was a familiar answer, the one that he'd always given, to a question that barely anyone had asked. Only her - and - someone else.

He turned hands raised, and she took her shot, cleanly.

No.

"Good. I can feel your anger. I am defenseless. Take your weapon. Strike me down with all of your hatred, and your journey towards the Dark Side will be complete."

He reached for the weapon that came to his hand automatically, as if it belonged there and nowhere else, and struck out at his father with rage, with pain shooting through his stricken arm. The fact that there was no wound where he looked didn't matter. He felt it.

It was pushing him, this feeling. It was hard, so hard, to push the feelings back. They were so close, they called to him, like voices in his mind.

Don't feel.

A rush of calm flowed through him, from the Force and from the moon itself, releasing him from his feelings, and he powered down his saber. "I will not fight you, Father."

Fight defensively, not in anger. He jumped away from Vader's attack.

He smiled. "Your thoughts betray you, Father. I feel the good in you, the conflict."

"There is no conflict."

"You couldn't bring yourself to kill me before, and I don't believe you'll destroy me now."

"You underestimate the power of the Dark Side. If you will not fight, then you will meet your destiny." Vader threw his 'saber to cut out at his son, frustration and impatience warring with his anger.

The catwalk fell from under Luke, and he tumbled as he fell into the darkness.

"You cannot hide forever, Luke."

But I can. You don't know. I've been doing it. They taught me well. "I will not fight you."

"Give yourself to the Dark Side. It is the only way you can save your friends."

Don't feel it. Don't think it. Don't say it. The pull at his flesh continued.

"Yes, your thoughts betray you, your feelings for them are strong. Especially for - "

Vader was too close, the push of his father's mind into his own too strong. He sought refuge in the one name that he could bear to surrender, the one person he know would be able to survive an onslaught from the Empire. Leia. Forgive me. You can withstand him. You have the power. Forgive me.

" - sister. So, you have a twin sister. Your feelings have now betrayed her, too. Obi-wan was wise to hide her from me. Now his failure is complete. If you will not turn to the Dark Side, then perhaps she will."

He expected a rush of calm, as he betrayed the one person in the universe that he could, the one who would know what he'd done, and why. It didn't come, and he began to panic, the confusion returning.

Think, think. If you're destroyed, if she is destroyed - then he will have no-one. No-one. Nothing. You will have no life with him, beyond this one.

Nothing of him. No feelings felt, even if they aren't yours. No future. No nothing.

No Han.

His eyes flew open in sudden shock, and he barely felt the touch of the still-cool 'saber handle in his hand. "No!"

The anger was swift and vicious and it enveloped him, burning like a flame through thin paper, surging through his veins. Pain pushed him forward, and love, so close that they were different aspects of the same feeling. A flood of repressed feelings mocked him, throwing themselves forward in blows of his lightsaber. He fought, and fought, and fought. He was strong. Stronger than any of them. Stronger than feeling.

When he finally realized what he was doing, his father was almost dead, the retribution of his own hand's sacrifice on Bespin repaid in full.

Nothing he had ever felt had been so strong, nothing had ever felt so good. Nothing was ever so terrifying as the realization of how close he'd come to destroying himself, and everything that he'd ever loved.

The Emperor taunted him with his near-failure. "Good." The cruel laughter echoed through the room. "Your hate has made you powerful. Now, fulfill your destiny and take your father's place at my side."

And then, as if by magic, as if a fog cleared and he could see - see what it was that he was, what he'd become, how he'd nearly orchestrated his own destruction himself, turned himself over to the powers of the Dark Side, the seductive powers of release - release of feelings, of love, of responsibility, of everything. He saw his father in himself - destroyed, beaten down, powerless. Just the way it had been on Bespin, when the feeling had first come over him.

He'd thought it was Han, cased in carbonite, taken from him. Frozen, cold, nothingness feelings. But that wasn't it. Han was alive, Han was warm, Han was alive. Han felt.

He felt.

He powered down his weapon for the last time, and threw it at the Emperor's feet. He had the answer. The Force was life. It existed. What was, what would never be, what wasn't allowed - that was the Darkness. It was the suppression of feeling. Ben had been wrong. Or maybe he just hadn't known.

He shook his head, the shivers beginning to wrack his body as newly-remembered feelings touched his extremities. "Never. I'll never turn to the Dark Side. You've failed, your Highness. I am a Jedi, like my father before me."

The hatred the Emperor threw to him was so palpable that Luke flinched at the onslaught. Still, it alone wasn't enough to defeat him.

"So be it, Jedi."

Han finished planting the charges inside the bunker. There couldn't be enough for his taste - there wasn't enough firepower in the universe to repay the Empire for what they had done, and attempted.

He took one final, fleeting look around, then ran from the scalding heat of the explosion of the shield generator. The adrenaline surge was unbelievable. He knew, somehow, the Lando was up there somewhere with the 'Falcon, with the rest of them, waiting.

And somewhere -

Something broke down in his mind, a memory-shield not of his own construction shattered. He had a sudden feeling, a rush, a flood of hazy memory, half-forgotten, as if it had been part of a dream he'd had a long time ago.

Only, it hadn't been a long time ago.

Luke.

He went to find Leia.

"If you will not be turned, you will be destroyed."

The pain was almost welcome, it almost made up for what he had done. Nothing that the Emperor could do to him was worse than what he had done to himself, and to the ones that he had loved. To 'save' them, he'd nearly destroyed everything. It was nothing more than pride.

He'd thought that he could fight it, turn it off, turn off his feelings. Even more than that, turn off the feelings that others had for him. It was only when he saw what his father was, the reality of the wires that led from his hand up through his body, and saw in that the reflection of what he was becoming - a droid, a thing instead of a person who felt - that he knew he'd truly failed, and not just himself.

There was only one person who could possibly save him now. He reached out, not with his mind, but with his hands.

"Father, please - "

Han.

Luke would never know for sure if his father had picked him up, or if it was the other way around. He would try to remember, but it never came to him clearly. Always, what he would remember next was the reality of half- carrying, half-dragging Vader's body to the fighter bay. None of the fleeing Imperial soldiers noticed him - or that the strange cargo he was handling was the former second in command of the Empire.

He collapsed under the weight, weakened by the fight.

Vader himself was holding on only barely. "Luke, help me take this mask off."

"But you'll die."

"Nothing can stop that now. Just for once, let me look on you with my own eyes."

Inside the helmet, beyond the mask, was a surprisingly tiny man, shrivelled and worn.

"Now, go, my son. Leave me."

"No, you're coming with me. I'll not leave you here, I've got to save you."

"You already have, Luke. You were right, you were right about me. Tell your sister - you were right."

He made a promise to emptiness. Around him, the soldiers were still fleeing the doomed Empire. "Father. I won't leave you."

They watched the explosion of the Death Star while Han bandaged Leia's arm. It was more than tonnes of metal and wiring - it was the destruction of an entire world order, gone up in a massive show of fire and smoke.

He looked at her, his voice projecting more confidence than he felt. "I'm sure Luke wasn't on that thing when it blew."

She smiled at him, reassuring, calm. The way that she always was. Steady. "He wasn't. I can feel it."

Han knew, in that moment, that he could love her for that steadiness. "You love him, don't you?"

She shook her head, puzzled. "Yes."

"All right, I understand, fine. When he comes back, I won't get in your way."

"It's not like that at all." She looked at him as if she was explaining the most obvious thing in the world. "He's my brother."

He's your - Something fantastic happened in the middle of their kiss: he understood. It was clear to him. She's your sister. Clear as crystal, clear as the breaking down of barriers in his mind - barriers that he didn't even know that he had until that moment. She's his sister.

He pulled away from her. Her lips were wet, she was smiling at him, and he knew from the look on her face that he was grinning back. She just didn't know why.

I swear to god, Luke, if you come back from this thing alive - I am going to kill you.

The fire was the last thing that he had to do alone, the last thing in his life that he knew he couldn't share with anyone else, not even Leia.

After the ashes had cooled, and he gathered some of them to take to his sister, he made his way back to the village, sure of what he needed to do.

Find his friends, find his life.

Live.

They were together - so close together, and he couldn't find a way to push them apart, although he wanted it. He didn't know why Han didn't want it, too, what it was that was between them. He had been so close, so close when they first touched, when he knew that Han was real and not just a memory - so close to just pulling him into his arms and staying there, for the next few lifetimes. But there were people, there were more feelings - Leia's, Lando's, Chewie's and the Ewoks' and even the droids'. They all swirled around, all inside his head. Luke knew it all was gone, all of his shields, all of his focus - he was too open. They were all there and he couldn't shut any of them out, couldn't focus on the one person that he wanted.

The one person, of all of the people there who he loved, that he was in love with.

So he watched, unsure, finally pulling away into the refuge of the darkness at the very edge of the village. It didn't really help to shut anything out, but he didn't have to pretend to be listening to anyone - to Threepio making up wild stories of the Rebel victory, to Lando's reassurances to Chewie over the state of the 'Falcon, to Han and Leia, talking softly together.

He was miserable in the knowledge that he'd given Han to her, and she'd accepted, easily, wanting him just as Luke himself did. But not like me.

He left them, not wanting to be alone but not deserving of company. It was all a mess of his own creation, and he needed to wallow in it for a while.

He sought out phantom figures in the dark, but even his teachers had deserted him. He wondered if Ben had been able to forgive his father for his betrayal, to ease some of his pain. He knew exactly what the sting of failure felt like, now, and he hoped that the afterlife, at least, brought relief.

He lost himself, trying to lose some of the voices in his mind, or at least to reduce their thrum, closing his eyes, feeling the darkness, and the chill air, so different from that inner coldness that had been so welcome such a short while ago.

"I don't know what happened." Han was shaking his head, still trying to make sense of any of it. They'd come away from the fire, to talk, so that he could explain some of what had been going on inside his mind, lately. In the midst of it, the admittance of the months-long relationship with Luke had tumbled out, landing on the narrow bridge between them. He thought she'd be surprised, startled, enraged; she reacted the way she always did to revelations about her brother - with calm acknowledgment and a stoic sort of resignation.

"You have to find out." Her voice was so soft - a softness that he could climb right inside, and lose himself in -

He shook his head again, clearing away cobwebs of thought. "And how do I do that?"

"You know how." He looked at her, and she allowed a flicker of disgust to cross her face. "Talk to him. You can't seriously tell me that you've never done that before."

"The hell I can't," he mumbled.

She looked plainly shocked, and then incredibly disgusted. "I will never understand you!"

"What?"

"You men! You're impossible!" She rolled her eyes. "You deserve each other - providing you can ever find out just what you mean to each other." Calming down a little, she laid a hand on his shoulder. "Did you ever consider that just maybe, if you had talked to him before all of this, it wouldn't have been quite so easy for him to manipulate you the way he did?"

He looked at her as if she'd sprouted wings.

"Never mind. Just go and talk to him. Try it. You might enjoy it." She turned away from him, back to the warmth and glow of the fire.

He caught her hand before she could get away. "I - "

She placed a finger over his mouth, smiling and shaking her head. "I know," she said, fondly, and then walked back into the light.

He watched her for a moment, and then turned, suddenly knowing exactly where Luke would be.

"What the hell did you do to me?"

Luke looked, with startled eyes, at Han, standing beside him with barely-checked fury. "I - I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know? You did this."

Luke nodded, mutely.

"So you can just undo it, right?"

"I - I don't know. I don't know what I did, I tell you!" He put his hands up over his face, suddenly cold and weary. "I don't know what happened." His voice was small when he next spoke. "I thought I needed to save you from something."

"From what? The Empire? Vader?" Han was incredulous. "We weren't exactly sitting around the campfire down here telling stories while you were gone, you know."

"I know. That was - part of it, but - " Luke looked at him, the confusion clear in his eyes. "I think I was trying to save you from me."

"From you? Look, kid - none of this is making any sense to me. All I know is I'm frozen in carbonite for months and when I get out, what do I find? A stranger borrowing your body and passing himself off as 'Luke Skywalker'. As if that isn't enough, for the past couple of weeks - it was like I had amnesia, or something. I could barely even remember you."

"When did you start remembering me again?"

Han thought for a moment. "Just before the shield generator blew. It was like - an explosion went off in my mind."

Luke closed his eyes. "That's when I figured it out," he said, softly. "When I realized that what they taught me wasn't true - not for me. They told me my feelings would betray me, but that wasn't it, Han. It wasn't."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I know you don't. I barely know what I'm talking about. Han - " He looked at Han, darting glances through his frustration. "Things have happened you don't know about."

Han crossed his arms across his chest, and leaned back against the side of the rope-bridge. "I know that Leia's your sister."

That was a surprise that he couldn't conceal. "When - "

"When the Death Star blew," was the succinct answer.

He nodded. It fit. "Vader's my father," he said, suddenly unwilling to harbour any more secrets from this man. "He was my father," he corrected himself, automatically.

It was Han's turn to show his surprise. "Does she - ?"

"Yes."

"Whoa." He waited a beat, and then asked, "Are there any other Skywalker family members that I should know about? Lando's not your cousin?"

Luke chuckled, on the verge of hysteria and tears. "No," he said, shakily, swallowing heavy sobs.

"Hey - " Han reached out for him. He held him, awkwardly, neither of them quite knowing how to do this anymore, what had once been as familiar as each other's body suddenly missing. "It's okay, kid."

Luke nodded, not trusting his voice anymore. He felt about nine hundred years old, and, at the same time, about five.

"I suppose I shouldn't call you 'kid' anymore," Han said, a trace of wry humour in his voice. "You're practically a young man - "

Luke turned and buried himself in Han's arms, pressing his face into the hollow between Han's neck and shoulder. His shaking was uncontrollable, and he wanted someone to make it stop. He wanted Han to make it stop.

"Okay," Han breathed, into his ear, his right hand coming up into the silk of Luke's hair, his left in the middle of Luke's back. "You need sleep."

Sharp panic struck Luke. "Don't leave me," he said, desperation unchecked.

"I won't."

"Promise?"

Han nodded, smiling solemnly. "Promise."

The bed in the hut they were given was crude, low, and small, but it felt like a gigantic nest of downy feathers to the exhausted Jedi knight. Better still, Han climbed in with him, sitting with his back against the wall, Luke curled up in his lap. The last thing he felt as he drifted off was the steady caress of Han's hand in his hair.

When he awoke, it was gone.

He was facing the wall, having turned completely around in his sleep. Moonlight was coming in the window; it threw a splash of silver light against the wall. He reached up and touched it, wondering if it was real.

"You're awake."

The voice startled him, and he turned. Han was sitting on the floor, opposite the bed.

Luke was so astonished that Han was still there that he couldn't find his voice. He nodded.

"Good. Maybe we can talk, now."

Luke nodded again.

Han was staring directly at him - even in the dim light, Luke could see the glitter of his eyes. "I love you."

He said it fiercely, as if defying Luke to question it. Luke gasped, made a noise that might have been speech, but Han stopped him by moving forward, gracelessly, across the floor.

"I hate what you did to me."

He finally found his voice. "So do I."

"If you ever do it again - "

"I won't," Luke said, brushing his fingers over Han's mouth. "I don't think I could. I don't think you'd let me."

"And I let you before?"

Luke nodded. He was still touching Han's mouth, running his index finger over and over the outline of his lips. "The feelings were there. I just - encouraged them, a little."

"A lot."

"A little," Luke corrected. He moved his finger away, intending to replace it with his lips, but Han stopped him, not speaking.

They stayed that way for a long minute, at a stalemate, time stopping for just as long as an endless minute took to happen, and then Luke smiled. He slid his hands around the back of Han's neck, twining his fingers together. "I love you," he said, and let Han kiss him.

Han's entire body came up off the floor in one motion, sliding smoothly into the bed. Luke didn't have to move to make room for him, he was just suddenly there, and he didn't want room in between them.

Boots thumped to the floor, and clothing, slowly, piece by piece, slid up and over skin, brushed through hair, unfastened and discarded to the far corners of the room. Luke even relinquished the glove that covered the part of him that was least real, startled by the tenderness of Han's kiss to the centre of his palm. Even that small gesture was something that he could feel.

He was underneath, Han atop him, moving over him like waves, brushing over his parts and cataloguing his tastes and reaction and movements as if it had been years since they'd been together. It had been years, but to Luke it felt like minutes. It was all so real, when nothing had been real for such a long time. He wondered briefly which of them had truly been frozen.

And then he lost his thoughts in Han's mouth, drawing him into the body of a kiss, calling to him to stop and to start. Full, heavy, demanding lips pushed and licked and wetted his own, and he surrendered as a tongue plunged inside, sliding up and over his palate and drawing back, now just barely past his lips, then drinking from him.

Han's hands seemed everywhere, everywhere at once, from head to toe - hair, neck, shoulders, nipples, stomach, navel, hips, thighs, knees, calves, toes - everywhere was an erogenous zone of pleasure, all of the fine blond hair on his body was standing on end, stretching itself out to Han's touch. Luke moaned, deep in his throat, making a tremor that rushed the length of his body. They were glued together, and Han twined his fingers into Luke's and pushed, thrusting his hands up over their heads.

The look in his eyes as they parted could only be described as dangerous - it was all white and black, his pupils huge, no colour showing even around the rim. "You're mine," he said, simply, not a command or a question, but just as if reading from a label that had suddenly appeared on Luke's body.

Luke nodded, raising his upper body and still only able to manage half of the distance needed to bring them together again. Frustrated, he wriggled free one leg and hooked it around Han's waist, trying to bring him down closer.

Han wouldn't allow it. He let go of Luke's hands entirely and brought his own down around the blond's waist, shifting his own body so he was on his knees and Luke's other leg was now free.

Luke smiled, pulling his knees up towards his chest, spreading himself open with his hands. Han bent his head and just barely brushed his tongue the length of Luke's cleft, making Luke shiver violently, then make a sharp sound of protest when the tongue was removed.

"Are you punishing me?" Luke asked, his tone mildly petulant.

"Do you think you deserve punishment?"

He didn't have an answer that he was willing to admit. He did, truth be told, think he deserved punishment, but the only fitting one that he could imagine was having Han leave him here, unsatisfied, for good. The fact that Han hadn't touched his cock was beginning to drive him to insanity. The idea that he might never do it again was simply unthinkable.

Han was smiling at him, and it was obvious to Luke that everything that he'd just been thinking had shown up in his eyes just as plainly as if he'd said every word out loud. "No," he said, finally.

"Liar," Han chuckled, and then took Luke's cock in his hands, both hands, stroking him rapidly.

It was like jumping to lightspeed with no warning, and ending up in the middle of a supernova. All of the nerve endings in his body, a second before on the edge of bliss, were now screaming out at once. He almost sobbed when Han's thumb stroked over the head of his cock, spreading pre-cum over the throbbing length.

Dying couldn't possibly be this painful. Han continued to do it, stopping only when he felt that Luke was on the very edge of coming. Luke's erection was slick from tip to base, some of the stickiness even glinting in his pubic hair.

He was about to beg for release when Han moved, bringing Luke's legs back down flat on the bed, and squatted over him. Realization struck hard even in Luke's blood- deprived brain, and he managed a breathless, "I don't deserve you," just as Han impaled himself fully on his erection.

"I happen to think you're wrong," Han said, sliding his right hand to the back of Luke's neck and bringing their mouths together again. "It's even better when you don't threaten me with a blaster, don't you think?"

Luke laughed, almost insensate. They were both too far gone for more than three strokes of deep fucking, and then they came - first Luke, who'd had to claw his hands into the bed to keep from coming when he'd realized what Han was doing to him, and then Han himself, the friction of two abdomens on either side of his cock pushing him over the edge.

It was sticky and messy and loud and incredible and Luke wanted to laugh and cry. He settled for molding Han's body into his own, wrapping his arms around his lover's back, feeling the pulse racing in his body, the breath burning in his lungs, the chill air once again surround them as they floated back to earth.

Once breathing had stopped being so painful, Han slid slightly to the side, so that all of his weight wasn't resting on Luke's body, and reached up and brushed Luke's wet-plastered hair off of his forehead.

"Now what do we do?" Luke asked.

"I don't know," Han shrugged. "I've never been in love before."

"Me, neither."

"I guess we'll just have to wing it, then." He grinned. "Get it? We're both pilots - "

"Yeah, yeah," Luke groaned. "I get it, I get it." He sobered a little. "Leia - "

"Knows everything. Literally."

"Good."

Han propped himself up on an elbow. "That she knows or that you didn't have to tell her?"

"That she knows." He chuckled. "And that I didn't have to tell her."

Han shook his head. "You're terrible."

"I know. There isn't a single reason why you should be in love with me."

"You're right." Luke looked slightly alarmed, and Han kissed him, saying, "There's about a thousand reasons."

"We should - "

"Sleep," Han said, shutting Luke's mouth for him.

"I was just going to say that."

"Right," Han said, skeptically. "I could practically see Jedi wheels turning."

"You're impossible."

Han's eyes twinkled. "That's just what your sister said."

"We're twins," Luke said, softly. "We do a lot of things alike."

"I believe she was referring to men in general at the time." Han pulled the blanket up, curling over and covering both of them.

"Oh." He shut his eyes and opened them again. "I hope she'll be - "

"She will. You'll make sure of it. Now sleep."

Luke took one last look out of the window, up at the stars. Somewhere up there, someone - or three - was watching out for him, and smiling.

He closed his eyes and curled up in the arms of his destiny.

Back to SWA-L Archive